Not Without a Price
by Rissa85-stargazing-85
Summary: Five years after the royal wedding of Jasmine and Aladdin, an old friend surfaces and forms an unlikely alliance with a distant ruler which may destory three destinies, including that of the Seven Deserts.
1. Ambition

Title: Not Without a Price

Author: Rissa85

Part: One

Genre: Violence, profanity, romance, drama, angst (well-rounded list, hm?)

Disclaimer: I do not own Aladdin or any other characters in the series.

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One even, pallid hand resting leisurely on an elaborate, ebony marble armrest the other gloved, sitting motionless in his lap. The glove, so embellished now. It was still black, with a tinge of gold around the wrist. But now it was bright, no, it glowed. Glowed a black light, a light speaking of situations better left unsaid and of impending calamites. It radiated a powerful energy that coursed through the owner's veins unremittingly and steadily. Such a passionate and appalling and lethal energy. One so powerful with enough ingenuity and aptitude it could easily rule over the Seven Deserts.

But such a powerful object did not come without a price. He who had it proved to have battled intensely for it. He who owned it proved to have unattainable vigor. He, who fought for it, had been near death to achieve what was now theirs. The glove invested itself inside the body and mind of the person. He who had the glove did not see it as an object, but a piece of himself. Part of their blood. As it molded itself into the flesh of the possessor, it also fed on the flesh to the bone.

It also gave the one who owned it a mystifying and distressing aura. One that left them shaking themselves and frightened even the owner. But what was he to do, once you owned it became you, or rather you became it. It feasted on the power-hungry blood of its host, intensifying the desire to rule, to own, to control or destroy.

Getting rid of it was unfeasible, for you could not. Even removing it proved to be fatal. He had known, the fateful day he had removed his, he felt an almost unbearable searing through his body, as the glove glowed and shot back to him, latching to bone.

It became your destiny, your fate. Many who had owned it, feared it themselves. But what were they to do? When they removed it, they would almost certainly stare death in the face. Those who wanted it wanted nothing but a curse. And the power it gave was near eternal. With it, you could become immortal, but what did immortality mean if it meant giving your life to an object that controlled you?

Those who had it had genie-like powers. Cosmic, phenomenal powers. Those who had it became Walking Death.

Its present owner, Mozenrath, had known nothing of this, though, until it was too late.

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Dexterous hands and nimble, trimmed fingernails flew over the scrolls, searching particularly for an antique one. Finding the scroll with such attentiveness and speed that would make an experienced wizard proud, she opened it slowly as not to rip the yellowing paper.

Stopping abruptly, she closed her dark-skinned eyelids briefly and touched the amulet on her thin silver chain. It was an aquamarine, a greenish-blue. It had a history of molding to the eye-color of the wearer. A reddish-purple light surrounded her, specifically, the amulet.

The sand shifted rapidly and aggressively and took the formation of a chair, which after she opened her eyes, and the reddish-purple in her pupils dissipated, she sat in, elegantly. Poised, she folded her leg under her and with her back straight, posture perfect, she smoothed out the paper.

Clucking her tongue as her index finger moved rapidly over a list of ingredients, she shook her head. Brushing back a strand of smooth, jet- black hair, she fixed her clothes. Now, clothes that looked rather expensive and hard to get. Clothes that once she only dreamed of. But now she would dream no longer. For now, she had what she had always wanted. No need to want for anything any longer.

Now she owned, instead of being owned, and what she owned was remarkable, considering that she had once been dirt-poor. The thrill, power, and money had been a pleasant one, once she finally achieved what she had always wanted. But not without a price. And it was an immense one. It had ripped her mind of its righteous morals. She had owned, yes.

But not without deception, force, carnage and manipulation.

It had not disturbed her, until times like these, when her mind wandered back in silence, thinking back to when she was nothing. When she had had nothing, knew nothing, needed nothing. When she was nothing. But her mind questioned her.

Was she less now, then what she had been?

Her magical charm did nothing except strengthen her craving for power. Her craving to own and to have a complete monopoly over something, or rather anything. The amulet had wanted her mind, in fact, any mind. Any mind vulnerable to its vicious clutches, in which it could deepen the bond between it and the possessor. There the amulet would settle itself in the middle of the owner's breastbone, where it gnawed into the underlying skin, grasping into it with striking force. Making sure to never leave it.

Many had mistaken it for a precious gem, once finding it, concealing it from anyone. Making sure it wasn't stolen. Yes, while first seeing it, greed entered the mind of the unfortunates. A first glance at the gem was all it took for the future owner to be seized by the vices of greed, until she or he wound up, the gem implanted mid-chest perpetually.

The gem happened to consume the blood of the victim, or rather the holder. Turning the blood of the victim the reddish-purple aura that surrounded the jewel when activated. In a sense, the jewel became the wearer. Or, the wearer became the jewel. It was all too confusing at first, until it was too late.

She that had found the true meaning of this magnificent precious stone was cursed. For once you found the true meaning it was too late, it had embedded itself, connected too profoundly with the mind to be removed. Unless a battle began for the jewel, defeating the owner would release the gem; then, the victor would become the possessor.. And again it would be too late. Again another life sacrificed for immaculate monopoly over something. For avarice.

You could live lifetimes with it. You could be immortal; you could be more powerful-rumored, than a genie. A genie with semi-phenomenal cosmic powers. A genie with immortality and vitality and imaginative and clever mentality.

You could also be Sauntering Death.

The present owner, Sadira, had known nothing of its mind-alternating powers and its wretchedness, though, until it was too late.

----------

Checking her appearance in the mirror once more, she blew herself a kiss. Then began cackling at her naïve appearance. She wasn't innocent, she knew it. In fact, she was the contrary. She knew what she was about to do, the gem knew what she was about to do. The stone was the support behind her motive.

Everything was in place, jeweled garnet tiara on her hair, which had been left down. Silvered earrings, midriff top, silvered slippers. Yes everything was in place for her plan on that city that quickened her heart, Agrabah.

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Sadira nodded rather halfheartedly, as merchants began to offer her fish, dates, shiny fabrics, wood, precious metals and other goods from their orderly and compact wooden stands. Sadira declined, to each with mock politeness, showing sympathy she wasn't sincere for. She smiled at each one flashing white teeth and leaving a small handful of solid gold coins at each stand that had given her a compliment.

She had heard the background voices, all too well. People gasping, pointing at her, and whispering about her. For she had been notorious in her other kingdom, where she had lived. It involved the kingdom's economy. When she had becp,e charge of the economy in the kingdom, money mysteriously dwindled, and the criminal had never been caught. But as soon as the investigation began, Sadira left. To another kingdom. Leaving the surrounding kingdoms with the thoughts and rumors of conspiracy or coincidence.

Never minding the opinions of others and going about her way, she continued. Things had gotten better, or so she thought. Since her routine of giving to the poor and the homeless caught on to the city, she began to destroy her ill-famed reputation and restore it with one of goodwill and honesty.

But only she knew herself that it was all an act, an act to generate enough power to support her next exploitation. But first, she would try it in a different kingdom. And why not all places but Agrabah? It was the most familiar place to her, and secretly exploiting it would put her high above even her own standards. Yes, why not Agrabah?

Passing an alleyway, she saw a young group of children, the eldest barely in adolescence sitting on a box of crates, looking desperate. From their appearance they had not had a bite to eat in ages. The trio of children looked up at her frightened and paranoid.

Her heart went out to them despite the pulsating disapproval of association to the children by her amulet, and she walked up to them, bending down to the eldest, on her knees.

"Hi how are you?" her warm voice radiated.

The young boy, obvious not used to being face a woman, let alone a wealthy and very pretty one, nodded, "Good."

"Are you hungry?" she questioned quietly, looking up at all three.

The middle child, a blond girl with blue eyes and tanned skin, nodded shyly. The youngest, which had to be no older than four, or five, timidly gazed at her, he was embarrassed obviously. She smiled broadly and took action.

She held out a sack of gold coins. About a week's salary for a middle-class man to the eldest. He spluttered as each child's eyes grew round and huge.

"Here, it won't buy much, but it's enough to buy a small shack." She gave them a caring smile, which could have said more than words ever could.

The boy grew teary-eyed and jumped into the arms of Sadira. Surprised, she laughed, and hugged him back as the youngest stared on, grateful.

"If you want," she prayed to Allah that her place had not been found and was still in shape, "I'll see a place for you, and come get you later on tonight."

The youngest nodded, "A real bed!"

Sadira softened, wanting more than anything to take him home with her. To show him how she lived and to give him a soft comfortable bed, compared to the dark cold alleyways he was probably used to.

She stood, feeling more attached than she knew was out of harm's way. She wandered out of the alleyway, where she spotted the Princess and Aladdin, both in Royal garments making their way into the marketplace. She pretended not to heed them; but, they saw each other instantaneously and wordlessly. She repositioned her tiara on her head and brushed past Aladdin, accidentally, on her way by them.

Unlike those in the city, whereas they addressed the Sultana and the Sultan, Sadira merely gave Aladdin a disinterested look and continued on.

Puzzled by this dark-skinned young lady with the aquamarine occludes that shined with a hint of condescension, he twisted his head, as he watched when she approached a stand with a young lady selling various fabrics and gems, a well-respected lady who owned shops in four separate kingdoms at least.

He had once seen that remarkable smile before, a smile dangerously sugary, which had once been on a juvenile face.

Sadira.

----------

She had seen her. She had looked different than what she had years ago. She looked immaculate. No longer carrying that street-rat air about her, nowadays she possessed an aura of sophistication and finesse. Why, even the way she dressed was different! No longer the ripped rags and unsightly sashes, now she wore silvered slippers and colorful satins.

How had she done all that? In these few short years? Part of her wanted to believe the rumors that had one-time been flying around the palace and the city. They had all heard of it. A beautiful dark-skinned girl, supposedly thieving a neighboring kingdom of a moderate amount of its profit.. A very deceitful and underhanded trick to gain affluence and high social position. But one Jasmine knew she was capable of.

After all, she had tried more than once to filch Aladdin from her, to no avail. The trust that could have been made had been destroyed and would forever be. And Jasmine knew that behind those eyes was a tinge of jealousy and envy. And she knew that from that first look at Sadira, that whatever she wanted she worked hard to get, an eventually it did belong to her.

What scared her most was why was she in Agrabah, and why did Aladdin seem so fixed on her?

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"Jasmine, was that Sadira?" he inquired his wife, puzzled.

She nodded, happily pulling a pair of earrings up to her ears, trying to get Aladdin's attention which at the moment she feared she didn't have.

Jasmine smiled and turned to Aladdin, "What do you...?"

But then she noticed, he was not there.

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"I do need the extra help running my shops," the middle-aged woman smiled warmly.

Sadira nodded, "I could help you. My father, "she quickly lowered her voice, "…is a little strange. He wants me to 'learn the ins and outs of finance', in case he doesn't trust my future husband. But I come from a wealthy family all the same." She finished with a pointed glance down at her garbs.

The woman leaned in eagerly, "A wealthy family, you say?"

"Oh yes," Sadira boasted, "I have a bit of blue blood in my veins."

The woman looked like she would almost faint, "When would you like to start work for me?"

Giving the woman a pained expression, she fabricated, "I'm visiting relatives here for a couple of days, then I have business in my kingdom."

The woman nodded, obviously scheming.

"Sadira, how about I lend you some money to set up a stand in your kingdom. You can pay me back with your profit."

Nodding vigorously, the lady with the aquamarine eyes smiled and opened her mouth to speak when the Sultan touched her clad shoulder.

"Sadira, how are you?" he asked softly and confidently.

She stared straight ahead, as them gem glowed. The need to own, to have control over something Aladdin owned would make her colossal, adding to her assets.

"Hello, Aladdin." She spoke cool and distant.

This shocked the lady at the stand. Why was this mysterious and wealthy young lady addressing the head of their kingdom with such openness, disdain, and intimacy? Why, did the ruler have a clandestine concubine? She always knew riff-raff were up to no good, and now he was ruling the city? It was almost too much to bear.

Why would a respectful and well-bred lady from a good background like her associate with him? Unless she was even farther above his level that she could cross that social boundary. Why, she did say she was from an opulent family! She never said they were that opulent. Her knees turned weak, wondering how much she could accumulate from this young girl in just her city.

Why she could be rich and get to the position of this pretty dark-skinned girl.

She watched as the Sultan, shifted comfortably, "It's nice to see you here, in Agrabah again."

She snarled and stared at him with enough force and repugnance that even the legendary Jafar would have coward and cringed at. "Is it really, Aladdin?"

He nodded uneasily, "Sadira...I…"

"ALADDIN!" Jasmine's bright cheery voice broke through the silence.

Sadira turned to see the beautiful princess bound over to him in an armful of silks. A silk trade she could easily own.

Jasmine bounded up to him and eyed Sadira with a friendly smile; but her eyes swam with suspicion.

Sadira nodded her way, giving her a look of disinterest.

"Hi Sadira." She had a tinge of coolness to her voice.

She smiled back danger with an off-handed comment, "Hello, Princess Jasmine."

Jasmine was shocked, she had just crossed the social boundary by calling the sultana out of her name, and in such a disrespectful tone she would have surely been condemned had the ruler been cruel enough.

"I am now Sultaness Jasmine. I'm sure you heard that in your kingdom. You were in the palace, there's very little you don't know of this kingdom. Likewise there's little we don't know about you." She arched her eyebrows.

Sadira knew that if Jasmine said anything in front of this lady, her reputation would be again at stake; and her dreams of a monopoly annulled. But it was a risk she'd have to take.

"Why Jasmine, you're Sultaness now? So you two did manage to marry. Instead of just cohabiting inside the Royal Palace?" she had now insulted the Jasmine beside what was to be taken lightly.

Fire danced in Jasmine's eyes, "Sadira, darling you were there at the wedding, I'm sure. At least I've lived in the royal palace all my life."

Jasmine turned to find Aladdin, but he was gone.

Sadira smirked, "If you want to find him, check the palace. You must've ran him off."

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Glowing a black light, so dark it didn't seem to glow, his glove comforted him. For while he was in the Citadel, the place he so truthfully belonged, even if there was no one to converse with.

At least not on an intellectual rank.

"Master sad?" Xerxes smiled, his body suspended in mid-air, as his large lips broadened into an apologetic grin.

Mozenrath arched a perfect eyebrow, "Of course not, Xerxes. What ever gave you the idea?"

The eel shook his head swiftly, "I don't know. Master seem sad."

"No, I'm thinking." He replied bluntly.

Xerxes, used to his master's impolite and blunt answers, slowly slithered out of sight. He knew all too well that the moods of his master could prove near fatal. As one time, he had gotten the Master angered so that the glove flew off his hand and surrounded him in a life-threatening clasp which rendered him unconscious and with half his tail bruised and bleeding his black blood.

Mozenrath could feel his glove, desperate for power. He had conquered the Land of the Black Sand, which fed his glove the power it needed to keep itself and him, satisfied. But now it craved, and it craved for something more, more than what he had or more than what he had wanted.

He could almost feel his hands shaking for power. It should be Agrabah.

Agrabah, the land he had always wanted to control. Since the day his master so fatefully shown him the map of the Seven Deserts. And since Aladdin and Jasmine were now Sultan and Sultana he now didn't have to worry about the former Sultan anymore, since he was so old he could hardly get up from bed. And Agrabah was so prosperous, it could easily become his first. Then, he would conquer the other kingdoms. But first Agrabah. It had the best defense around anyway. Once he had Agrabah, he had everything.

Yes, it would be Agrabah.

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Sadira combed the remote alleyways and streets of Agrabah, at night. Her way illuminated by the amulet acting as a red light to guide her way. The cool breeze of the desert night blew across her skin, the wind gently lifting her hair and placidly letting it fall. The light verdant of her sheer fabric ruffled across the underlying silk cloth. Frustrated, she was near the end of her search when she heard diminutive, nervous, frantic young voices down the dilapidated alleyway.

She smiled with the satisfaction that she had finally found the children. She rounded a corner, which was a dead end brick wall, but behind some rusted old crates, two heads were poking out. She got on her knees, not caring to look a little dirty. She had looked worse.

"Stand up, you! Right there!" she commanded with mock authority.

The kids literally speechless with horror looked up and dropped their half- loaves of bread simultaneously. Their eyes were as wide as the dinner saucers used in the palace. But as soon as they saw Sadira, they smothered her, tackling her with hugs and kisses.

"Alright, alright." She laughed heartily, the amulet glowed bright ruby, illuminating their faces.

"What's that.?" the timid blond girl asked pointing to her silvered necklace.

She bit her lip, lying carefully, "It's a grown-up toy."

The blond girl nodded, "What's your name?"

The dark-haired woman smiled, "It's Sadira. What's yours?"

The youngest boy who had dark hair and a round-shaped face with dark eyes looked up at her, "Danereth. You're pretty."

The blond girl smiled wanly, "Aveina."

Sadira nodded, smiling at the youngest boy, bending down to kiss him on the forehead, "Thank you."

The eldest boy held back with the same dark hair and eyes as the youngest boy was very quiet; and he watched the whole ordeal through hardened, practical eyes. Sadira's heart ached, for she too, had carried that same look at his age.

Turning her eyes from his and to the younger children's she laughed, "Let's go."

The kids followed her as the eldest walked with her side-by-side, matching her stride equally.

They had only walked a few alleyways and blocks when she saw a young man in Royal clothing coming toward her. Aladdin. A dozen cover-ups raced through her mind as she looked at the ragged, destitute children.

He smiled as she walked by, her gaze fixed ahead.

"Sadira!" he called after her.

She stopped, not turning around as the children turned to look at the Sultan.

"Sadira," he muttered, "Can I speak to you alone?"

"Don't you have a social standing to uphold?" she snarled, nastily.

The children watched with awe and wonder. Knowing she was an influence, she went around a near-by corner as Aladdin followed suit.

"Talk and make it fast." She pressed, indifferently.

"Sadira! What's gotten into you? Ever since you left Agrabah and ransacked that poor kingdom-," he was cut off forcefully as a dark hand smacked him vehemently across his tanned face.

"I did NOT 'ransack' that poor kingdom, Aladdin." She gritted her teeth, straining against all her might to ignore the quickening vibrations of her amulet. She knew its deadly and magical powers all too well. They had gotten her the lavish attention of nearly every royal member in near-by kingdoms.

He looked at her mildly shocked, "You've really changed." he muttered, bringing his face to his hands. And for one moment time suspended, and she wished more than anything she could take what she did. The hurt in his face nearly reflected her suppressed own. He was the only person she had ever felt to have a special connection to. Maybe because of their hard and torturous lives? Maybe because of their similar upbringings? Maybe it was all just a coincidence.

She brought her hands to her amulet, the passion of the situation intensifying. "I didn't change Aladdin," her voice was smaller and weaker now, "I.don't know what happened. I..."she turned and began walking fast- paced to leave. But his hand on her wrist stopped her abruptly.

"You can talk to me. As new Sultan, I want to care about the people of this town." His stated sincerely.

Her eyes widened, feeling so angered and insulted she was shocked. He was grouping her like he would some unknown commoner, peasant, or the poor in the street! It was almost if he was talking to a stranger and not a friend!

He saw the bright spark in her eyes as she wringed out of his grasp. "I do not NEED your charity or anyone else's!" she shot out.

Aladdin stopped, "I'm not pitying you!"

She stopped abruptly and looked over her shoulder, "Then stop acting like it! Stop acting like I really was and am a thief! I'm wasn't! I'm not! I did this with my bare hands!" she stopped, for she wished to add, what is more than I can say for you! All you had to do was marry and your authority and power was practically given to you as dowry! All you had to do was be in the right place at the right time! While I had to give up my morals, just so I could eat a decent meal!

"Sadira, we were thieves at one point. And that's where our connection is. I know whatever I said might have offended you, but it was all with good intent. You are one of the only people I've felt a special understanding with because we are both the same-," he was interrupted again.

"Except," she turned around fully and her eyes nearly shocked him. For a moment, their vulnerable minds exposed each other and their anxieties and hurt were exchanged between two knowing minds frightened to share them with anyone but their subconscious. They swam in each other's needs, felt each other's grief, and tasted each other's fears.

She stood, her skin, now seeming to hold an ethereal glow, her eyes filled, stripped and replaced by hurt and hardened pain only street-rats and riff- raff could ever know. "Except," she smirked sadly, mocking her own self, "you have a good heart."

----------

He tossed and turned passionately until dawn, haunted by her unearthly expression.

"Except, you have a good heart."

What did that mean? He had a good heart. He knew it. And he felt good in her heart too. It was one of the many securities that had begun their intermittent friendship. Until she finally ended trying to capture the Love in his heart that belong to Jasmine. She had given up. And by the look in her eyes last night, she seemed to have given up on Life. He savored the moment when their minds connected again, and for the second time in his life, with her he felt that vibrant bond of stamina and tears and the sweat of hard work that most times went unappreciated or rebuked by society.

Now he was at morning meal, energy zapped and fatigued beyond belief. Throughout the night he had gotten a few hours of broken sleep. Thinking about a special friend. Worried and haunted by her expression and the glow she had. It came from that gem or whatever she had. And he sensed it was black magic. But if it was to cause trouble, the time would come up. Eventually.

"Aladdin!" Jasmine chided gently, "What are you dreaming about?"

He shook his head, as if to shake away his thoughts, "I didn't sleep well last night."

She nodded knowingly, "Well, I suppose since you just ran off after dinner with barely a word. Who could sleep under those conditions?"

He laughed, weakly, "Yeah."

"Aladdin, you can't be tired. We have that Grand Dinner with other royalty tonight." She patted him on his hand, coaxingly.

"I want to invite someone." he nodded at her, with the same comfortable easy air she had him.

Her face drew quiet and restless with a hint of scorn, "Sadira?"

He nodded and abruptly stood, "I shall go check out the market today."

She nodded artificially sugary, "And why don't you take Genie and Iago along with you?"

His expression seemed almost irritated, but he nodded, "Sure."

----------

Aladdin weaved his way around the bustling crowd, looking for that familiar dark-skinned face with the aqua-marine eyes. Genie and Iago struggled to catch up with him for he was bordering on running.

He saw Sadira walking along the street with the three children he saw yesterday, or so he guessed. These children now looked like they had a decent meal, a good night's sleep, and very costly garments on. The blond-haired girl with blue eyes, now had her hair combed in one long pony-tail and dressed in an adorable sheer and cloth outfit. The youngest was dressed in common royal crème-and-yellow pantsuit. And the eldest was dressed the same as the boy, but with a butterscotch sash around his middle.

They all looked like royalty.

"Aladdin, aren't you going to say greeting to that man-stealing woman?" he said, in a narrator's voice, casting a glance to her, "Last time I saw her, she didn't exactly dress and look like that."

Iago laughed, "Those rumors are true! There is no way someone could slide so easily into a royal rank in that little of time!"

Aladdin cast a deadly look of provocation at Iago, "Stop it, Iago."

Iago cringed, "That's the first time I heard you backing up for her! She tried to pry you from Jasmine! She's a deceiver-,"

Aladdin looked Iago hard in the eye, "Stop, Iago! She's different now."

Iago quieted, marginally chastised, why did he feel the need to protect her now? Now that she could finally take care of herself and be out of their way, he wanted to protect her. Iago had almost sensed Aladdin felt an indifference to her in the past, but now even he could feel a link.

----------

Sadira stopped at a stand that sold exotic chocolates and sugars. A man was standing there, grinning lustfully at her.

She watched as the children crowded around her, their mouth watering. She laughed, "Danereth, Aveina, and Izedin, pick out something you'd like."

She saw them, glancing at the big display of chocolates as specific on- lookers gawked at her and what seemed to be, her children's opulence. They seemed of royalty.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around, "Hey."

She saw Aladdin with slight bags under his eyes, which were drooping, and the wearied smile on his face, "Hi, Sadira."He watched as Sadira brought her hands to her amulet, "I wanted to talk to you."

She rolled her shoulders, trying to get comfortable as on-lookers passed by, eyeing the two. "Why don't we talk some other time? Like tomorrow or something?"

His face was set, determined, "No, it can't. It can't even wait until tonight."

Nodding slowly, she looked at him, interested. "I'm listening."

He pulled an intricate envelope from his turban, "Here, take this. Please, attend."

She nodded toward the three children, already chewing on their sweets, "I'll try." she finished dryly.

---------

"Aladdin!" Jasmine searching for him in the palace, but he was no where to be found.

A dark-haired servant appeared in front of her, "He's in the throne room, Sultaness."

Jasmine nodded briefly, weaving past the two talking servants. She would have customarily chided them for talking when they were supposed to be preparing for the dinner that evening. But she could not linger. She had to talk to Aladdin. Now.

She waltzed into the throne room where Aladdin was directing a group of men decorating for the festival.

"Aladdin!" she gasped grabbing unto his shoulder, breathing heavily.

He nodded, "Jasmine, what is the matter?"

She snarled and removed her hand, "The town is talking! About Sadira! And you! And you both!" she brought her hands to her forehead, shaking her head, and looked up at him with hurt-filled eyes.

His heart twisted around three times and almost shredded itself at her tear-filled eyes, he gulped, "I'm sorry; but I had to talk to her. Sadira, I had to." He stuttered.

"You had to what?" she pleaded, "ruin our reputation.?"

He touched her cheek lovingly, "Jasmine, don't be silly."

She nodded, her eyes watering. "Oh Aladdin."

Just then, a guard cleared his throat uncomfortably, "There's a woman at the front of the palace, wishing to see you Sultan."

He squinted his eyes, uncertainly and defensively, "Who is she?"

He bowed, "Sadira, what should I tell her?"

Jasmine's jaw dropped and she gawked up at Aladdin, "You gave her permission to feel free to prance around our palace?! But we have heads of other kingdoms arriving! What will they think, Aladdin? That's it, I'll go get-"

Aladdin held up his hand, "I'll take care of this."

She ignored him and began walking to the main hall where Aladdin joined her in stoic silence.

Alas, Sadira's dark-haired silk-clad body came to view. And Aladdin could not help but to smile in greeting. Jasmine looked at Sadira defensively while they came to a stop in front of her. Automatically, she wrapped her arm around Aladdin's.

"Sadira, how nice it is.to see you." He nodded politely.

Jasmine eyed her and nodded along with him, "Yes, how nice?"

Sadira shrugged off her obviously satirical comment, and switched her eyes to Aladdin's, "I came to return…"

She grew very well aware at Jasmine's persistent glaring and the dropping of her jaw. She leaned forward and whispered, "I can't talk to you right now. I'll have to tell you some other time."

Jasmine yawned, "Very well, but when you arrive again do be quick. We do have company."

Sadira nodded pleasantly, hiding the nasty comments for Jasmine well, "I'll be leaving."

Aladdin knew of Jasmine's jealously and slyfulness and now it was causing Sadira to leave. And for some reason, he felt the urge to talk to her , converse with her. He wanted to know what she meant and if she got the chance, maybe she would tell him.

She began walking away when he latched unto her wrist, bringing her back, "I…Sadira."

Jasmine gawked at the display, her eyes watering, and rushed quickly down the hall from the oblivious couple.

Sadira looked at him, hard, "I can't attend."

He took a step back, "What?"

She nodded, giving the silk-bordered envelope back, "I won't be able to attend, because..."

He held up his hand to silence her, "If it's about Jasmine, I'll handle her. She'll act more polite in public, Sadira I invited you, the least you could do is attend."

Silenced, she took a step back, "I..."

He took her hand and pressed the envelope into it, "Please."

She closed her eyes, relishing the power she felt what he was subconsciously emitting. Her gem glowed briefly and a warm sensation flew through her bloodstream. She opened her eyelids, "Then of course, I will."

---------

Ebony shoes strode swiftly and nimbly across the shining blue marble floor which shone and seemed as transparent and sparkling as new glass. Interestingly enough, he was not invited to attend the grand royal feast that was to take place yards away from him. Deceitfully, he was here with an ally and an ignorant one at that from a land not near enough to Agrabah, but far enough from the Land of Black Sand that the guest was oblivious to his comrade.

Which was why Mozenrath was well on his way to nowhere quickly. Excusing himself immediately upon entering the royal palace, he had paused, his glove began glowing. Which could only mean one thing: a chance for power. Power was somewhere near.

_I can't believe I'm here._

Mozenrath rounded a corner which brought him almost near outside the palace. The moon hung yellow, over the sky indolently, as the stars surrounding Luna glittered like luminous jewels in the Agrabah sun. The gardens, which sprawled serenely on either side of the concrete walkway were dark and silhouetted. Lush trees and medium-sized bushes with small thorns adorned the garden. He felt his arm glowing, as his pulse subconsciously quickened. Someone was near. Someone with power. And it could not be Jasmine nor Aladdin because they would not leave the royal guests alone in the palace during the feast.

_Who is it?_

Slowly, a figure came into view, silhouetted with lengthy hair falling curly past her shoulders. Her dress swayed with the nighttime breeze as the diaphanous pale fabric fluttered unhurriedly. She seemed angelic, unworldly. And an aura surrounded her. An aura of sophistication and finesse. Her shoes clicked with refinement along the walkway.

Slowing her step, but not stopping, she curtsied, "Good evening, my liege."

_I can feel that, that gem glowing. Is the power like mine?_

He bowed, still stopped. "I wish you the best time at this feast." He grimaced at his artificial sincerity, designed to keep suspicion from his audiences.

She chuckled, light and breezily, feminine, and with a suggestion of scorn. "It's not possible."

----------

Mozenrath sat across from Sadira and to the left of Aladdin. On the right side of the Sultan was his wife, Jasmine. He watched as Sadira was quiet, but seemed to be drilled with questions every time he looked up from his delicious feast of veal and vegetables.

She answered quickly and precisely enough never quite giving an exact answer but more or less one that answered the questions. He could feel the tension of the guests heightened with her sparse details and hidden remarks in her brief replies.

_What idiots! Even I know she peculiarly had something to do with exploitation of that kingdom._

"Sadira, tell me how you were invited?" a lady guest with short blond hair questioned, disdain hidden quite poorly in her voice. Jasmine snickered softly.

Sadira, nonetheless, gave the woman ann amiable subtle smile, "I was invited by our dear host." The woman gasped as she dared to shoot a disapproving look to Jasmine, who blushed crimson and looked up, mocking surprise at her husband.

He glanced at Sadira, "Why yes of course, I invited Sadira. We are...past acquaintances."

----------

"I'm leaving." Sadira stood in front of Aladdin curtly announcing to him.

His coffee eyes wavered as they locked with hers, "Don't, Sadira."

She cast her eyes downward, as the dinner guests eyed the two suspiciously while sauntering to the far end of the hall to be entertained. "I must go."

Jasmine, briskly, walked up to them, "Sadira, you must leave now." She whispered, sneeringly.

Aladdin held up his hand to his wife, "Jasmine, please be kind we have guests."

Shocked but marginally chastised she sulked back watching the two resentfully. Aladdin stepped forward, but Sadira turned and left quickly. Aladdin, not hesitating for a second followed her with velocity. Leaving Jasmine alone, but with stunned and censorious company.

----------

"Sadira." Aladdin called urgently, still painstakingly following her through the covered in dust, isolated and dim streets.

Unhesitant, she disregarded him and walked awkwardly and constrainedly toward a dim dusty part of the city. Arched red-brown brick ways and tattered bits of cloth in the destitute part of the city flew every which way. Itinerant sections of loose cloth were strewn over unoccupied wooden stalls. A part of him found this place unnecessarily recognizable. But so remote was the recollection that he dismissed it, unrepentantly.

Arduously, he jumped on the wooden barrels that Sadira effortlessly leapt on to run across the starched cloth that were used to shade the cart from the unrelenting daytime sunlight. He pursued her, as she jumped from the last cart to a small peg in the wall. She effortlessly swung up to the next deck where he swung up after her, breathing strenuous.

Carelessly, he dismissed the thought of Jasmine's face as he left, which was stunned, vulgar, and full of envy. Remembering his past, he looked around feeling disconnected and traitorous. Traitorous to Jasmine. To his present. To himself as Sultan. Loyal only to his nearly forgotten past.

"Sadira, wait!" she stopped before he could finish.

She turned rapidly, her face illuminated by a reddish light. "Would you leave? I told you, do you won't me to do something drastic?"

He shook his head, with compassion and irony, "Would you hurting me, bring me any closer to where I am now?"

Narrowing her eyes, she commented, "You'll never be that close to me again, Sultan."

Holding up his hand, he laughed mechanically, "I do not deserve the title 'sultan', Sadira. You and I know that."

Shocked, she turned her back to him, "But you do nothing to change it? I thought so."

Anger unexpectedly surged through him, "There was nothing I could do about it! If I were ever to marry Jasmine, I would've had to be sultan!"

Her voice wavered, "Don't yell at me Aladdin."

Sadness overtook the anger and with that his energy, "Sadira, please don't. Let's not argue. Please, let's try to get along. I've haven't had the chance to see you for a while."

She shook her head, pulling the ornament in her hair out, causing her hair to cascade, "It'll never be-"

He stopped her abruptly, "If it's about Jasmine, I'll talk to her. We can be friends again."

Turning again, she helplessly looked down at the reddish-purple gem that glowed unworldly in her face, "This.. can't work."

He stepped up to her and for the first time in his life, he saw tears well up slowly in her eyes, but pride held them back, vehemently.

"I can't do everything, but I'll be here for you." He responded sincerely.

She looked at him, then down at her gem, seemingly fighting an internal battle. "You're tired, go home. To your jewels and your Jasmine. And your Life."

Sympathetically, he shook his head, "No, thank you. I'll stay."

----------

Staggering sleepily, through the palace, Aladdin groped his way in the dark to the royal bed chambers were the two guards eyed each other knowingly, and glared at him suspiciously before moving aside.

He entered quietly and was astonished that the lamps were still burning and Jasmine was sitting up, her face swollen and red. She glanced up at him, hollowly. His heart ached, but he pushed it away justifying her weeping as a symptom of uncalled for jealousy. He slid into the bed, next to her, pulling off his now dirtied turban and clouded jewel.

"ALADDIN HOW COULD YOU?!" she yelled, angrily. Her voice raged.

He shook his head; "We'll discuss this tomorrow."

She shook her head fervently; "We'll discuss this now!"

His temples ached, women and yelling at him. It was an awful combination in the course of one night. And one night of awful sleep. He could not sleep were Sadira stayed because of guilt for Jasmine. And now he wouldn't be able to sleep because of guilt for Jasmine and confusion and apprehensiveness for Sadira.

Jasmine wasn't helping.

"Stop it!" he barked, before he could think, irritably.

Her eyes widened, "Sadira did this to you! You would've never yelled at me like this! Aladdin, please. I'll have that hussy excommunicated first thing tomo-"

He stopped her, "No you won't, either. I'll make sure to it."

So intensely she bit her lip holding back a retort that she drew blood. Aladdin noticed this and resignedly wiped her lip for her, kissing it tenderly. "Please.?"

She nodded, entranced, as the anger withered to surface a new emotion. "Aladdin, tell me you love me."

Quizzically, he blew out the lamps and darkness followed the winding trails of smoke from the extinguished light. The moonlight spread blue-ish white over the two lovers, who were enveloped in the dark of night.

She reiterated, disparagement clear in her voice, "Declare your love for me. Swear that you've never loved anyone as much as you've me."

He grew exceedingly taciturn. Uneasily, he questioned, "You know the truth."

She grew vexed, "Please?"

Exasperatedly, he replied, "I swear. Now, are you satisfied?"

An unsettling quietness filled the room as unspoken words of annoyance and woodenness lay between them. Aladdin and his mind, undoubtedly, on other situations. Jasmine, her mind, on Aladdin, who was not thinking of her in the least. And neither that nor Sadira would lead her to mental respite.

---------

She hated mornings, as much as she hated those proverbs that rubbed themselves into her conscience incessantly about her abandoned honor and lost pride. Why was it that memory happened to be the persecutor of the guilt-ridden?

Watching the tiny three slumbering, she stood in front of her luminous mirror. Disentangling her braids, she drew water out of a vase pot and brushed out her hair with her boar bristled brush. She laughed cruelly at the memory. The memory of when she had swiped the brush from the sultana of that kingdom so faraway. It was a wonder how she managed to waltz her way into Agrabah so effortlessly, when other sovereignties had precautions so stringent.

A diffident tall figure with dark hair emerged from the small entrance. Aladdin. She laughed once more, cruelly. He had left late night, to home, no uncertainties. To Jasmine. Her gem glowed brilliantly. What was he to want now? For some reason, she felt that her position in Agrabahian opinion had altered. And so had Aladdin's.

She treaded mellifluously toward him and heard the muffled flurry of the market place. She stood as light eyes met dark eyes. He cleared his throat, looking haggard and wary. Briefly, she considered it her liability before dispelling it. He looked as if needing a warm bed and fresh clothing. Why was he not at the palace?

"Excuse me," her voice tinkled softly, keeping it low because of the nearby children, "Why are you here?"

He smiled unenthusiastically, "I'm tired, please may I sleep here?"

Her eyes widened as she touched her gem, trying to steady her hastening heartbeats as a cogent and assured blitz of warmer blood dispersed through her core.

_Power._

The word clouded her mind, before no longer could she see coherently. Why, the power was so very intoxicating and overwhelming! The world weakened into a delicious and dark state of sleep.

----------

Long dark eyelashes fluttered open as she roused; Aladdin's grimace was met with her contrite smile. She glanced around, the children were still sleep, as it was only sunrise when she had awakened. She had never fainted before due to this, this gem. And the disoriented after-feeling was not the least pleasant.

She stood, woozily, glancing at her on-looker, "You may sleep here. I'll get breakfast." She gestured to the partition across the room.

He steadied her arm while she pulled a sheer cloak about her nude shoulders, "That's okay. I'll retrieve. I'll go. Sadira you need more rest. You fainted just a while ago."

She blushed crimson, "So that was what happened."

She watched, as he went over to her and placed both of his hands on her gem before yanking them away quickly, blowing on his burned fingers, "What is that?"

She looked up at him with large blue-green eyes, "A gift. From someone far away." she crossed her arms over her chest to conceal it, to no avail.

"Can I, see it?" he replied, his eyes were watering now, from the lack of sleep and he stifled a yawn.

She shook her head, gently, trying to divert attention from her gem and to his weariness, "Sleep there."

He could only nod and crawled into the warm bed, gratefully, immediately closing his eyes. She laughed quietly and stood looking at him for a long moment before flouncing out into the sunlight.

---------

"Excuse me?" a manicured finger tapped Sadira on the shoulder while she was trying to balance an arm full of melons, she turned abruptly.

"Yes?" her smile dwindled when she saw her inquirer.

"Have you seen the Sultan?" she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

Sadira smiled politely, aware of the wandering eyes of the passing people, "He's not at the palace?"

Jasmine's eyes blazed, "Why no, you see if he did not have Sadira to constantly twirl around in her little skirts and midriff tops, then he would probably be there."

Sadira's mouth twisted into a dangerously sweet smile, "I think you, as the wife, should keep better track of your husband, hmm?"

And with that, she walked away calmly. Jasmine folded her arms, following her with her eyes.

_As soon as you make the wrong move, you are mine, Sadira. Don't think I don't have a clue and neither does the dungeon._

_----------_

"Genie?" Aladdin muttered, quietly. He was in the royal library, poured over many a scroll, which were expectedly open. Genie appeared, blue with a bright smile on his foolish visage.

"Al! What do you need help with?"

He gazed up with dark brown eyes, "I want you to help me find about a reddish magical gem."

Genie's eyes grew wide with surprise, "Why? Heard something?"

Aladdin shrugged, indifferently, "Please?"

Genie closed his eyes and meditated in the seat next to all before opening them, "One gem from beyond the Land of Black Sand. The Coast of the Desired."

A small smile crept on Aladdin's face, "How strange a name. You may step down."

Genie's smiled wavered, "Be careful about her, Al." And with that he disappeared as quickly as he materialized.

---------

Aladdin flew along with carpet, feeling almost devilish. For he had slipped passed Jasmine with a few elaborate white lies. Uneasily, his conscience smote him from the back of his mind, but he pushed it away. She would never understand his visiting Sadira.

The sun was setting as the coast came to view. The blue ocean water stretched as far as the eye could see, tinged with the golden horizon. Up above, the sky was orange-pink with purplish clouds lisping into nothingness. As he flew closer, he saw a dark figure on the balcony, holding her elbows and an even darker figure, floating in the air near her. A snake-like figure.

Quizzically, he stepped down off the carpet and unto her balcony. Sadira kept her back toward him, continuing to pay attention to this eel creature. She drew her long dark hair over her shoulder, where it rested and Aladdin took heed of her exposed skin, restlessly.

"Tell me more about him. Have I met him, Xerxes?" she asked, furrowing her brows and looking as if she was trying hard to remember something.

Aladdin was more than shocked to see Xerxes consorting with Sadira. Holding his anxiety, he stepped next to her, their shoulders touching; he gripped the balcony, looking over the ocean. Sadira laughed cruelly, glancing at Aladdin.

"I'm busy." She hid a smile, turning to Xerxes.

"Would you tell him, I will meet him tomorrow at noon. Thank you, Xerxes." She turned around, as Xerxes disappeared from her sight.

"What brings you here?" Sadira spat icily.

"You." He answered evenly.

She shook her head, casually, a gust of wind fluttered her hair. "You must have something on your mind. You never looked for me before. I do not appreciate your meddling. And how would you know I live on this coast."

"The Coast of the Desired? I searched." He smiled softly.

"Just the same. I do not appreciate your research. Goodbye."

She turned to leave, but he held fast to her wrist. "No Sadira. I have to talk to you."

Her blue-green eyes shone in the faint light. "Well?"

He motioned inside her room. "You're cold out here. Inside?"

She rolled her eyes, her shoes clicking as she headed indoors. He followed, hesitantly.

As he followed her in, he watched as she drew the glass doors, placing the green sheer in place. Her room, as colorful as it seemed, was dimly lit. There was a fainting couch, three dressers, two mirrors, a large bed, and a large rack of clothes. In the corner, there was a table, and a chair.

Paying no attention to him, she flounced unto the fainting couch, on her stomach, her feet in the air. She traced circles lazily on the marbled floor. Composed, he drew the chair up to her and sat.

"Well?" she repeated at length.

"I do have a lot on my mind, at the moment. Some concerns you." He stopped, wringing his hands.

She glanced at him slowly, "I'm listening."

"I want to know about you. About your gem." He finished quietly.

She stopped tracing her circles, and calmly replied, "The problem with you, Sultan of Agrabah, is that you don't really mind your welfare or that of your city. You mind the welfare of everyone else in the world. And for that you always put your wife and your kingdom at stake. You've come to prod in my Life now when I don't need you at last and weren't there when I needed somebody, anybody. I wish you good night." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

Not budging, he replied. "You needed me?"

"That's not the point." She spat. "The point is you have no business here. And I want to know how Jasmine reacted when you told her you were coming to me."

He shrugged uncomfortably, "Forgive me for prodding. I was searching and stopped for a place, when I found this."

She nodded, "What luck I have. But you haven't answered my question."

Bringing his hand to the back of his neck to rub it gruffly, he replied. "I didn't tell her the whole truth."

Widening her eyes, she stared at him condescendingly, "You don't deserve her. I bet no one's told you that. You know that. And if it wasn't for that chance meeting, then you'd have never known her." She held up her hand to count on her manicured fingers. "Lemme see, you've lied to her numerous times, threatened her Life, and hidden the truth from her."

Indignantly, he stared at her back into the pinning turquoise eyes, "You are not so good, Sadira. I know you ransacked whole kingdoms. I denied it. I know you aren't even received in some kingdoms. I know about those warned me of you and told me not to admit you into Agrabah. And I know that you are not as innocent and pure as you appear to be. I also know-"

She sighed loudly; her eyes shut tight, "It's nice to hear of your weaknesses, hm? I want you to leave."

He stood stiffly, "I see. You've changed so much that I can not even talk to you."

She brought her dark head up to meet his. "How can you tell me to go back? I've changed, dammit! I have! There, I've admitted to it! I've changed so much I don't even know who I am anymore! But could I do!" she briefly touched her gem, where it glowed promptly. "Do you know what it's like to starve? What it is like to be barefoot on ground that is rough? Do you know what it is like to have lice crawling all over you because of how dirty your hovel is? Do you know," she paused, cradling her gem, "what it is like to sick with no coins for a doctor?"

He stared at her blankly, "Have you not forgotten where I've grown up? How I grew up?"

She shook her head fiercely. "No, but you have. You barely recognized the riff-raff section of the city following me."

Hesitantly, he took her hands, "You could've came to me. I would've helped. I didn't know."

Her eyes blazing, she countered. "You knew how I was! How many times had I passed you on the streets before I left? How many times had you seen me hungry! You knew how I lived, how we all lived! Yet you do nothing. I'd damn you to hell, but that's too good of a place for you!"

He watched, speechless as her gem glowed. He yelped as her hands grew the same sickly red, burning his. Yanking her hands away, she covered her face with her slender hands.

Aladdin retreated slowly, sorrowful and helpless before her. .


	2. As I Am

**Title**: Not Without a Price

**Author**: Rissa85

**Part**: 2

**Author's Note**: Part two, yay! The real action starts now. Feel free to write comments and reviews.

-----

She awoke to an amulet already glowing, her blood feeling as hot as molting lava, her heartbeats faster than galloping camels. The legitimate arguments posed by Aladdin the night before donned her with fitful sleep, and she drug herself to the porcelain vanity.

The first thing she noticed were eyes. Too large for her tired and dried face. Her eyes. Red-rimmed with salty-tears. Her eyes which held so many secrets of humiliation and greed.

She could no longer stand them.

Grabbing a flask, almost reflexively, she smashed the colored glass against the mirror, turning from her reflection. The glass cracked, the shards falling across the vanity and a few cascading to the polished floor.

_Good that there's magic._ Sadira thought, looking at the shards.

Seeing more flasks channeled her fury, the mirror had not all been destroyed but cracked and dozens of her aquamarine eyes stared back at her. With condescension and blame, and a hint of shame and mysteriousness. So much like her life. The flasks crashed against the mirror destroying the shards, the colored pieces falling to the floor, making a tinkling noise.

She again turned from the mirror, standing up, the seat turning over from her furor and desperate internal struggle. She imagined what her body would look in the mirror. So used, cheap. A tool. Occasionally a tool. She remembered incidents, her stomach growling for days. Her mind accompanied by fatigue and weariness. With no possessions, no talents save for stealing and lying. She did what she could. She sold her body.

The first time, she was so desperate and grateful for money that the aftershock of the effect did not hit her until well after the action. Only after her hunger had subsided, the customer long gone, had she felt the overwhelming guilt, her body dirty and used. Though, it wasn't the first time. She had been raped, in the alley-a town faraway, where she grew up in an orphanage until finally slipping away. Just another damn runaway.

The effect was astonishing, only a small girl, only eight years of age. She didn't even know how to cope with her already miserable childhood. Always the quiet child, she kept more to herself. The more mysterious, the less chance of becoming hurt. Sneaking off into the night to play a game with small children, trying to outwit the orphan mistress. Somehow, she had gone astray from the group and was lured into a dark alley by a shrouded man, where forcibly, his hot breath and hand on her mouth, she was taken.

She winced her eyes. The effect had not fled.

The blood dripping from her, the aching between her legs. The pounding of her head. And the overwhelming sense of being dirty and cheated. Later, she hobbled into the orphanage where she received a beating from the awful orphan mistress. Being the only one out late, she received a thrashing that produced welts on her tiny body in front of the other children who remained silent, refusing to acknowledge her in their ruse.

Her first act of prostitution was better than her first act of intercourse. Albeit, it was a drunken fool in the latter. Again, in her old town. At night, so desperate for food. It was over quickly, with a sack of gold coins tossed in her direction without so much as a look. Perhaps she did not deserve a look. Again, the cheap feeling. The dirty feeling of being used. But what could she do? No talent save for stealing and lying. And her body.

During her stay in a village a nice woman had managed to see her potential. So charitable, she never asked Sadira's name, nor given hers. Through her charity, her beautiful body managed to capture the attention of a palace attendant who took her home with him, offering her gifts and money, all to attend him. She knew what he wanted. He wanted a whore. And through greed and self-denial, she submitted. How else would she live?

Through him, she managed to obtain silk, satins; his name was a blur in her memory. Secretary to royal treasurer, making a hefty sum and giving Sadira much of the latter. What a high-priced whore she was, and she knew it. Wheedling information out of him which would ultimately lead to his demise. Her head, always scheming, through her own mind made her a better treasurer than he. And when she was to be appointed another treasurer to the Sultan, her former 'patron' became jealous. Conspiring against her, she had found. To rid damage to her reputation for his masculinity was damaged by her to-be higher position, she slain him.

Her stomach revolted against the thought, already feeling the bile rise in her throat at the memory, she held her breath.

From there, a journey of embezzlement from one kingdom to the next. Presently, she was late for a meeting with Xerxes' master-A Mozenrath. From the dinner in Agrabah.

She stole herself to her elaborate wardrobe. All sorts of colored satins which complimented her skin and her guarded teal-hued eyes. Slippers, shiny and polished, all fitting to the last degree of comfort. Dozens of tops and dresses sheer and not sheer. And she looked down, the even surface of the polished floor, underneath was a small pit of coins, in case she ever became too desperate. No, she would never resort to harlotry ever again.

The dirtiness, the cheapness. It was not worth the few coins she could wrestle. She passed her wardrobe. And a rough cloth attracted her attention, a dark grayish cloth. Former street-rat wear. Listlessly, she grabbed it, memories rushing her mind, and her mind was set upon it.

---------

She was very late. His impatience increased. His full lips set in a distasteful grimace. A figure walked slowly in the room, gripping yet a another figure. Draped in all gray cloth, concealing hair and all, to the polished slippers it wore. The mamuks, the dead souls walking, securing his kingdom, their decayed bodies poorly concealed in black sand. They were awaiting his command and the captive held no response.

"Kill that." He muttered.

"Mozenrath?" the figure spoke quietly but with underlying authority. The mamuks set on killing her. It was a woman. It had to be, the feminine voice. Sadira.

"You've a fine time to show." His mood was evident.

"My apologies, Mozenrath. I had trouble in my palace." The mamuks had stopped, awaiting his orders, he waved his hand to dismiss them, and with intermittent steps, sluggish steps, they fled. He watched her, pulling back the hood of her long and concealing gray cloak. Dark and full hair, dark skin, and aquamarine eyes, hardened. An arcane austerity.

She spoke with confidence, "Your zombies. From magic?" she inquired.

"Yes." His answer was concise, never using more words than necessary.

"You wanted to meet with me. I was told you're a sorcerer. From Xerxes, your eel?" her voice was tinged with monotony.

He was silent, and simultaneously she felt her gem, concealed under her cloak, warm her blood, the familiar glow of magenta surround her. The puissance was comforting, but strange that she should feel such a rush of power here. Just the object she wanted to conceal had become so bright that it was illuminated under her cloak.

She looked over, the black glove glowing so dark it seemed not to be glowing. A black light. The room was illuminated by it. The torches in the room had burned out, Xerxes had fled, and with wide eyes Sadira had seen her jewel and his glove float toward the middle of the air, where her jewel rested in the palm of the glove.

A sickly warm-ness brought her to her breastbone, where it had been gnawed to the bone by the jewel. Her bone, her flesh, and placing her hand to her breastbone, a wet sensation rested on her fingertips. Blood. Looking across the room, she saw Mozenrath's skeletal hand.

The amulet then floated back to her breastbone, where it rapidly latched to her breastbone, piercing her skin which caused her a moment of intense pain and discomfort.

The two lights dissipated, until the amulet was only left with its own faint magenta glow, and the glove, with its own black light. The torches lighted themselves again and all was perfectly reticent.

"This is why you summoned me?" she questioned, breathlessly. "A daring move."

"A daring response. My glove emitted a tingling sensation at the Grand Palace gathering. More potent than usual. Through investigation, I found it to be that amulet." He gestured toward her breastbone. "With it, we could become the most powerful beings in the land."

"I need more investigation." She countered. "I'll summon you when I've found something."

His snarl was a comment. "These gems have never been brought together before. What more investigation can you retrieve?"

She gave no response, but tapped her head in thought with her index finger. "Patience and observation are acts of the wise."

"Considering your tardiness, and my patience with that, and my research and observation of the gems now, it seems a likely conclusion, Sadira…. that it may be, I am wise." His face twitched with insult.

Sharing power with him permanently did not reap positive thoughts in her mind, but temporarily it might be helpful. And so forcing down a fireball of insults, she smiled a sour smile full of deference and feigned humbleness. "Forgive me if I have insulted you, it was not intended to be so. I will summon you after more thought and will attempt research in your wait."

----------

Night had fallen, and in the cool of the desert night Sadira was glad for her covered gray tunic which hid her ostentatious amulet which she was presently annoyed with because of its innate tendency to reveal its shining luminance in the most inappropriate situations. This thought brought her back to the conversation with Mozenrath. The two objects had not been brought together. But it was too much to ponder at the moment and she settled to climb the last two crates to the small hide-out she had set up for the little children she found herself growing increasingly attached to.

She pulled back the thick worn cloth she had put up to keep beggars and the suspicious from thinking it any more than a dirty hovel. Near every night, she found herself spending time with these children. And she looked around. The place did not look awful, for her pains, of course.

Magic was not an inconvenience to use, although producing the comforts in the hovel had drained her considerably. A small fainting couch, one gigantic bed with marvelous pillows and linen, the floor wooden, through another small door was a room with a cupboard with food she would supply with at the beginning of each week, and a table with four chairs, for she ate dinner with the children also. In another small doorway was her room, which was tiny compared to the enormous one at her palace, but comfortable, and the bed was sizable which Izedin often climbed into and snuggled against her.

"Izedin! Danereth! Aveina! I've got a story to read to…you." Her tone gradually slurred from charming and enthusiastic to one of disgust and reluctance. A dark head with tanned skin, oddly enough without a turban switched his head from the children sitting around him, enchanted with his strong and masculine voice.

"Why, Aladdin…" She feigned her pleasant surprise, all the while damning him under her breath. "It's near time for dinner, why…" her voice rose, "…is there trouble in the Royal Palace?"

Aladdin, always patient, always calm, guilelessly looked up with soft eyes. "I came to story-tell, Jasmine, you see, is sick and I decided to spend my time with Danereth, Izedin, and Aveina while she takes her rests, until she becomes better…I don't like them out here by themselves at night or by day. You give them unsafe amounts of money. All they would need is to be robbed."

"Until you give them money, then maybe you should keep your mouth shut!" she hissed, irritated with his condescending tone, so deftly concealed in a masque of feigned sincerity. The children, hearing her raised voice and his calm responses looked up at her with their large eyes, the look of innocence prevalent.

Sadira closed her eyes, feeling her pulse return to its normal state, attempting to calm her frayed nerves. How often it was that she was irritable, especially at intervals such as this, when her consciousness plagued her with past images she'd rather forget, and the pressure of a distant accomplice urging a potent bond through greed was not aiding her in relaxation.

Their wide eyes looking up at her with their innocence, often she herself wished for someone to look up. She had never had anyone she wanted to imitate, no one to copy their speech, or their gestures, their wear, or their personality. No one but herself. But now, in this light, she felt responsible. A pristine kind of example, one she wished to enjoy for once.

"You look like you've had a rough day." Aladdin commented, at once seeing her furrowed brows and weary expression, something had flickered in her eyes, and she had sufficed a tired smile. Not to him, but towards the small children listening to him, as he continued his story.

"I've had a rough day." She held her head, "Aladdin, would you please be so kind as to make the children dinner? It's in the cupboard, the wood is next to the coal pit on the floor. The fresh fish is in the other room, follow to your right." Her speech was slow but precise as she attempted to dilute her irritation with tranquility. "I'm going to take a faint rest." Her deliberate steps exited to the small room that belonged to her and drawing the think cover over the entranceway, she went to nap.

"Is she sick?" Izedin questioned, his frightened expression meeting Aladdin's gaze and interrupting his tale of a poor child who finds a charitable patron and then becomes rich.

"Oh, she isn't. She's had a bad day and probably has a headache. She works hard." He answered warmly.

"I wish you could live with us, at night like her." Izedin's smile was contagious, and modestly Aladdin replied. "I have my own place to go home to. But I'll come over when I can." His promise was sincere, though in the back of his mind, he wondered how he would be able to keep his 'slipping' from the palace a secret for long.

Her suspicions never seemed to cease and he felt as if under a microscope lens when inside the palace. The guards, obviously watching him, never trusting a had-been street rat. The Sultan, always talking and commenting on his young ruling days. Jasmine, constantly scrutinizing and chatting,. Iago quiet but always forming some kind of cynical or sarcastic remark. And Genie who seemed to always make joke in the most inappropriate of situations. Carpet and Abu, on the other hand, where quiet and he was thankful of them.

Izedin, Danereth, and Aveina, as he found out their names had an insatiable appetite for hearing stories, and being dear, they almost never interrupted and followed him into the pantry while he fixed dinner for them on the coal pit. It had been so long, years since he had fixed his own meal and it brought back intense memories. Of him and Abu, before he fell in love with Jasmine, on top of a fruit stand, eating melon and watching the common folk go by, wishing for nothing, except to never have to wonder where the next meal is coming from.

The meal was good and as the smell of cooking fish wafted through the atmosphere. Sadira, expectantly pulled back the thick cover and trudged in, replying on how good the smell was, and feigning complaint that her food never smelt as good as his when she cooked. Aladdin didn't eat, though, he was full from the palace dinner that left him feeling stuffed, but he watched as Sadira dished the salmon onto each ceramic plate and then a loaf of coarse bread and fruits. A large jug was in the corner of the room with an airtight seal and sweet fruit juice was given to everyone.

After the meal had been cleared and Sadira used soap shavings to wash the plates with water , the plates went back in the cupboard and the children immodestly changed for bed, though Sadira commented that Aladdin should divert his eyes to the little ones which he did, feeling for once, a hint of irresponsibility and childishness. It was a missed feeling.

The youngsters went to sleep swiftly as Aladdin promised them that tomorrow they could look at the animals. Questioningly, Sadira wanted to know what animals and where. Aladdin smiled mischievously and replied to her that he would be taking the children, if it was alright with her, to the royal palace and see the room where they kept the doves, Abu, Rajah, Iago, and Genie. The end factor he hinted on a sarcastic note.

"Please," Sadira whispered as they stopped at the thick cloth that concealed the fair opulence from the world, masking the atmosphere as just a dirty hovel. "Don't come here so often, I don't want them to get hurt."

"I won't. Jasmine won't mind me seeing the children."

"She will when she knows that they are mine to take care of." She whispered.

Aladdin held up his hand. "No, she can't stop me from helping the poor of Agrabah, the needy."

"They aren't in need. They happen to live well here!" she sensed the patronizing tone once more.

"Sadira, stop it! You've been nothing but satirical and full of yourself all evening. Everything I say, I'm afraid will come under attack. Have you forgotten?! I know what it's like to feel hungry, to starve, to be desperate. We've had our share, Sadira. Enough to feel lifetimes full of misery and worry, and we're not anywhere close to our middle years yet. I'm in charge of a kingdom that a few years ago I spat on and stole from. I'm related to a Sultan who years ago I'd wished to rip to pieces for all his talk of loving Agrabah and taking care of the poor! Do you ever see anyone else's side beside your own, Sadira?" his voice was scathing.

Smoldering in rebuke, she replied keeping her voice lowered. "I've seen it from so many angles I've wondered if I too, have the eye of Allah. I've seen it from the children. From their eyes, their looks, from them. I gave them what I never had when I was their age. A warm bed, someone who cared, and well-spent time with someone I could look up to. Living through them, it's…it's..." Her voice became soft, feeling the familiar burning sensation and knowing her eyes were about to water.

"Sadira! I….sorry." his apology was awkward, as she looked up her teal eyes watering. "It hurts, it does. It hurts me too. I…I'm sorry. If there's anyway to make it up, I'll…sorry. I…"

"Leave Aladdin. Good night." Her voice came out strangled and choked, as the curtain dropped from in front of her. He stood there for a moment. It seemed an eternity, then he left, the cool Agrabah wind on his perspiring skin.

---

Blistering sun, unrelenting and unforgiving, hit skins naked and exposed to the harsh weather, all the tones slightly deepen from the now going on two hours of exposure save for a minor rest in shade for about fifteen minutes. Izedin, Danereth and Aveina bounded about the palace grounds, all three tugging on the posh robes of the inexperienced and pristine sultan who let himself be hauled about the gardens in a fun-loving way, laughing and pointing out certain objects and weaving legends and fables from his mind as effortlessly as one could pick up a handful of sand and toss it around, letting the little grains slip through fingers, too inattentive to care.

Izedin, the eldest boy, with the dark hair and dark eyes led what Aladdin believed to be his younger brother and younger sister about the grounds with an air of unquestioned and gentle authority, following up with what Aladdin told them with a bit of his own commentary which made his younger brother and sister laugh at some times, and then gasp until Aladdin chuckled, and explained that Izedin was only making a few harmless jokes, which caused the elder boy to pout and complain insincerely that the "Sultan is ruining my jokes."

"And these are where we keep the doves. The Sultana, former Princess Jasmine, loves doves, especially white ones, and insists on keeping them here." He gestured to the white cage in which intricate holes were carved to let in fresh air to the chirping birds. Looking through one of the holes, one could see the stout white birds, some colored off-white, some ivory and a few with white bodies but wings dusky-colored and bills painted in bright and vibrant hues.

"How pretty!" the blond girl cooed, her skin tinted a light bronze which made her eyes seem all the more brilliantly cobalt, and then placed a finger into the cage where a dove fluttered above her small hand before settling on her forefinger, all the while chirping and not minding the little girl which laughed and giggled.

"And so you see…that is the palace grounds. Now would you guys like to see the inside?" Aladdin waved his hand toward the palace. His skin tanned and his eyebrows, thick and black, complemented his handsome face and with his teeth demonstrating a genuine grin; he made for a charming, charismatic leader and very much unlike the calculating and impersonal leaders in adjacent kingdoms.

"Ah, Doves _are_ pretty. But I think the Tiger will be funnier to look at!" the youngest boy grinned eagerly, tugging on Aladdin's hand, attempting to lead the group into the palace; but Aladdin, ever the diplomat began to speak and he found it increasingly charming the way the children hung onto his every word and listened to him attentively as if he were the epitome of life and the center of their beings.

"Since we've been outside for so long, maybe we should go inside for a little while. Then, when the sun begins to go down, we can come outside again and play some games until dark? I'd really like to show you Abu, my favorite friend. He's almost like a human and is the friend I've had the longest. And, you guys can see carpet!" he was almost as enthusiastic as the young children, talking animatedly.

Aveina paused, turning from the dove chamber and spoke, her small voice settling on Aladdin's ears with thundering sound. "Can we take a dove to Sadira?" As soon as she spoke, the conversation grew quiet except for the constant chattering of Izedin to Danereth. Aladdin's face twisted into a pained expression and then for a split second there was an awkward moment.

"Yeah! To Sadira!" Danereth reiterated, placing his even smaller hands into the cage as the Doves fluttered about and the settled onto his little fingers as though they were just another branch to sit upon. Izedin, noticing Aladdin's reticence reminded silent as well, waiting for a reaction.

"She can't have them because they're royal property!" Izedin burst forth from his silence, attempting to settle matters in his own way. " And you know what happens to people who take royal property…they cut off your hands. So no, we can't give them to her!" his voice was brutal and harsh, enough to cause little Danereth's eyes to water, but his older brother patted him on the hair and gave him a reassuring smile, "But Sadira's so pretty and nice that she doesn't need these stupid doves anyway!"

"No, she doesn't!" Aveina agreed, turning away from the doves and grabbed one of Aladdin's hands and Danereth agreed and kicked the dove chamber for good measure before grabbing the other hand of the Sultan who stood, watching the whole event, a silent spectator.

As they began to walk away, an imposing figure, with a muscular tanned body and two golden bracelets on each wrists coupled with a black moustache and beady dark eyes, a constant snarl affixed to his features with a red sash about his waista dn a tiny red jewel encrusted into his beige turban spoke. "The Sultana would like to have a word with you."

In those 10 words, Aladdin's heart immediately dropped and he sighed irritably. Something had nagged at him, when he decided to bring the children to the palace grounds that someone would see them and report it back to Jasmine; but he had ignored it. Now he would hear it. He could almost make out her exasperated and slightly desperate voice when she became angry and again, he sighed.

---

"So you bring her children to our house?" her voice, which could arouse him and make him smile slid over each word dangerously, almost too vulnerable-sounding and saccharine to be credible.

"I promised them. What could I do, Jasmine?"

"So you have seen her then? And not at the market?" her voice was accusing and her face a mask of jealousy. The children moved closer to him, all except for Izedin who stood apart, his face glowering and becoming darker and darker with each implied slight to his surrogate mother.

"Well, yes. But I'm married to you, Jasmine, "he attempted to appease her, reassure her that he indeed had been faithful; however, his rebuttals and instances to calm her down were falling on deaf ears.

"Married to me? Then why do you see her?!" her calmness disintegrating and her shrill voice echoed in the empty hallway.

"I don't see her! I see them!"

"You have to see her, then! She doesn't leave them alone does she? Unless she's as useless a parent as she is a friend!" Jasmine spat, twitching and her eyes darting from each child. "And from the looks of it, she hasn't been too faithful a wife either."

"Stop!" the conversation was interrupted by the eldest boy, stepping in from of the Sultana, hesitantly if with an undercurrent of audacity. "She's _not_ useless. She's good and kind and pretty. And don't talk to her like that!"

Jasmine lifted her eyebrows, and stood as a silent figure, all dressed in light purple satin and gold, twitching and irate, waiting for Aladdin to defend her and chastise the child. But he didn't.

"Come on, we'll walk back." Izedin cast a sour look at the Sultana, who met his gaze condescendingly, and then to Aladdin, who held his head slightly cast down. But as Aveina and Danereth released his hands and clung to their brother; he looked up and watched, almost helplessly as the children rounded the corner of the long hallway to the back entrance gate that led into the marketplace and city square.

"We need to talk." She muttered, sauntering up to him and clasped his hands in hers. Her hold was clammy and her grip strong, almost desperately strong. Her dark eyes searched his face, lovingly and attentively, ready for whatever he was to say to her.

"We do. Look, " he swept his hand over his forehead as if to bat away the pending headache which was closely forming, "Just because the children adore me and I spend time with them doesn't mean I am spending my time with their- Sadira. And just because she was like _that_, in the past doesn't mean that she is now. And even if she was, I wouldn't. Because I love you, and you are my wife."

Her eyes filled with tears and she wrapped her pale and slim arms around his trim waist embellished with amethyst satin. "I love Aladdin, more than anything in the entire world. More than anyone in the world. As I do _Allah_. And I always will. I've never needed anyone else."

He rested his chin on her dark hair, thrown up into an intricate bun at the top of her head which made the motion a little awkward since there also was a golden crown studded with different jewels there also. "I'm always here for you. Always."

---

"Sadira, are you there?" A voice wove smoothly through the cloth partition in the darkness of the enclosed space, the moon lay behind a strange array of fluffy white clouds. For a full five minutes, no one came, no one came to answer his call. He had left the palace quickly and in a huff from another argument with Jasmine, this time over what decorations to make for the annual kingdom charity ball in which rulers from all over the seven deserts would be present. With a myriad of nastily flung comments toward Sadira, his patience snapped and he left.

Now, a quarter of an hour later, he stood at the entrance of what looked like a small dark hovel, fit only for a vagabond; however, he knew of the eiderdown beds which lay behind the dark dirty cloth and locked wooden doors. It was remarkable, how the street rat mind worked.

Ingeniously, she had planned the residence, with the outside appearing to be a dirty hovel. The dirt cast about the ground, the cracked wood and peeling cobblestones and plaster made for a disinteresting and unsatisfying picture, the cloth was held by bent rusted iron nails. Once past the cloth lay a worm eaten door, with spaces between the planks of wood so wide you did not even need to open the door to peer into the small space which was no more than five and a half feet tall and ten feet wide, complete with a shredded dirty wool blanket of indeterminate color and a cracked porcelain plate, too dirty to eat from. The floor was of sand.

Nonetheless, the secret entrance was deftly concealed, a street rat could hide anything anywhere. Necessity demanded it. Nowhere did it seem as if there was an opening unless you happened to go to a corner of the room and scoop up a few piles of sand, where a knob opened up a door which introduced stairs which descended two flights where the residence lay.

At the second cloth partition which led to the home, he stood still. And then sighing, he pushed past the partition and strode in.

The children were at a wooden table, playing with little dolls and a miniature palace when he arrived. The children all looked up expectantly at Aladdin, and then seeing that it was not who they expected dropped their gazes and continued on with their game as if he did not exist. All except Danereth , who in that way of instant forgiveness which children have, stood up and rushed over to him excitedly.

"Aladdin!-" then he cast a glance at Danereth who frowned. "Uh, Sultan! And…you came to play with us?"

Aladdin nodded curiously, his eyes swept hastily around the front room. "Call me Aladdin." Then he spoke to the other children as he glided over to them and sat at the open chair left at the table. "I'm sorry for the way Jasmine acted today."

"You were supposed to show us the palace and eat sweetmeats with us. You lied to us!" Izedin spoke as Aveina nodded, Danereth clung to Aladdin's hand hesitantly, loyalty strained between his older brother and the awkward Sultan.

"You made Sadira mad." Aveina spoke in her small and delicate voice, offhandedly as she gripped the miniature statue of a little princess with blond hair that bore an uncanny resemblance to herself.

"I couldn't find anyone who sold sweetmeats this late. But I did bring..." she glanced up from rummaging through a chocolate-hued burlap sack and was startled to find Aladdin sitting at the empty chair usually left for her at the table.

"What the hell are you doing here?" And before he could answer she dropped the sack unexpectedly, clutching her chest and staggered uneasily toward the table. "Get out." She ordered, albeit weakly as she steadied herself. Aladdin rose quickly to help her, curious as to her fainting spell.

"You don't have a heart problem do you?" he questioned, letting her take his seat as she exhaled sharply.

"No," she spat back wearily, removing her hands and smiling at the children with their wide eyes. "It's okay," she ruffled Danereth's hair. "I'm okay, just a little tired."

"Aladdin wanted to know where you were." Aveina remarked importantly, grabbing a dark-skinned figure with a white turban and making the figures "walk" using her hands to move them from one part of "town" to the other.

"You left them." Her tone was accusing and he groaned.

"Jasmine was upset."

She slammed her small fist down onto the wooden table so hard; it shook as figures clattered to the floor, the miniature castle wobbling dangerously on the edge. "They could have been kidnapped, robbed. They have a good amount of coins on them in case of an emergency…and then what would've happened? They're nothing to you…"

"Wait a minute, Sadira! They _are_ something to me. I'm not on speaking terms with my own wife over this!"

"Then why did you let them leave alone? You didn't have the decency to escort them back home? Street rat never make could make it in the palace."

Angrily, he spat back. "And neither do swindlers."

"Will you _get the hell out_?" her voice never rose, but increased dangerously dark. Obviously, her patience was being tried. Aveina and Izedin moved toward Sadira while Danereth remained clutching Aladdin's fingers with his tiny chubby ones, his eyes wide.

"No, I'm not leaving you. Not after you almost passed out in the doorway."

Her hands began to shake as she spoke, "You will get out, if I have to use something to get you to do it!"

All eyes glued to her shaking hands, her gem glowing, she strained to restrain herself. Feeling her gem heat her dark blood, she stood with a slack jaw and partially glazed eyes. If she were to use her magic against his power, it would completely deplete her magic and render her useless until it replenished itself- and that would take nearly a week.

"Just leave." She barked her shaking fists at her sides.

And wordlessly, he stood and left.

---

She wasn't an ugly girl. And she wasn't plain. But she had dark skin, and that enough was clue that she wasn't royalty. Someone commissioned this portrait a while ago when she was in that one Kingdom. But that wasn't anything irregular. From urban myth, she had already ransacked a handful…or more. That's why she was here.

The fabric was excessively expensive and exceptionally gorgeous. A lilac Chinese silk sleeveless and modest top which contrasted with her deep chocolate skin which always seemed to Jasmine to be ashy when she had been one of the streets. Her black hair that always seemed much too full and dry was sleek and woven into a single silky braid whose texture resembled that of the Princess of Agrabah's that fell over her left shoulder held together with a golden band.

Her eyes were a bit slanted at the corners and though she would never admit it, were a captivating aquamarine which in itself was highly irregular considering nearly all of Agrabah and everyone she had met in her entire life had chocolate-hued orbs. Her brows were too thick and heavy to be womanly and sweet and her face carried an expression a tad bit too disarming, still…they helped frame her heart-shaped face and complimented her attractive nose and not-too-full dark lips.

This portrait had been gilded in solid gold for a royal something-or-other, a treasurer in Quirkistan with whom Sadira had been sleeping and with a little effort and some jewels sent, she had retrieved the picture. Now that she had it, she wondered why she wanted it in the first place.

At any rate, she, Princess Jasmine, was prettier anyway.

Tucking the frame underneath the royal mattress once more (which required a bit more effort than she would admit), she sat again on the Egyptian linen. Why did Aladdin, then, seemed so intent on her now then?

---

Freezing and thick fog permeated the entire kingdom; not that its citizens would matter. They were half-dead at any rate. Slow-moving and obedient only to their masters, these creatures seemed to be held together only by an invisible thread. Any time of combat would sever a lifeless and bloodless arm or leg. Their mouths fixed into an ever-present grimace, some of their clothes tattered. Nothing matter to these creatures.

This kingdom was habitually dim, with sunlight being blocked by the fog and clouds which for eternity swirled above in the dismal sky. All hope lost, except for the black sand which seemed as ubiquitous as the sand around her castle or Agrabah. Shadows danced about eerily as she walked and as she moved about the city toward The Citadel, the myriad of torches magically burst into a brilliant blue flame.

Unlike the last time, she did not wish to conceal herself inside a street rat cloak; but, instead chose to visit her associate in her normal rather expensive and tasteful garb and her dark hair hanging down her back like a black waterfall. Her slender limbs were wrapped snugly in midnight and cerulean cotton. She was abundantly gorgeous in a inexplicable and strangely captivating way. It took effort not to crane your neck as she waltzed by. He was no exception.

--flashback--

One of the few days that Destane and he traveled to one of the markets in the local kingdom. He hated crowds, Destane and that hatred of crowds and of nearly all people would transfer to his pale and full-lipped student. The heated bodies with a faint stench of sweat concealed in heavy cotton pressed together under the hot sun and smells of fresh fish (some almost rotten) and produce and heavy far-away colognes smashed together in a unmixable frenzy of odor.

All the ladies appeared modest in their drab cloaks, some married and escorted by a male family member. Their voices tinkled together lightly and smoothly, fresh gossip on their sharp tongues. He never noticed ladies before. His mother passed during childbirth and he never knew who his father was. In the Land of the Black Sand, mamuks were ubiquitous and female forms were nonexistent.

Being a boy of about fourteen years, ladies crossed his mind from time to time. Just a fleeting moment; but, nothing more. He lacked real contact of the outside world. And so now here he was, periodically accompanying Destane to the marketplace for some ingredients in spells. As long as the afternoon dashed ahead, he was fine. Besides, he did enjoy sweetmeats and Destane arbitrarily bought them in rare moments of tenderness.

A whiff of vanilla and sandy hair collected his thoughts suddenly and rather rudely and through them into the wind, scattering them. The first thing he noticed was the waist-long blondish-brown hair that was straight as a pin and pulled up into a ponytail which sat on the top of her head.

Her hair had brushed past him and tickled his arm in a way that made him uncomfortable but strangely wanting for something just a little more. Her lips were rosy and full like his, and her nose was pointy and rather large (now that he reminisced on her) but suited her oval-shaped face. Angled bangs teasingly fell in front of her purplish eyes and she laughed a tinkling laugh, bubbly and carefree. She was beautiful.

As she walked away with a heavyset older lady with the same light-colored hair, no doubt a guardian and most likely her mother, he craned his long neck to watch her and almost jostled an entire barrel of fish in the process.

"She was a beauty, wasn't she?" Destane arched his dark heavy brows as he slid to a stop in front of a fruit stand. "Close your mouth boy, I've seen better."

Mozenrath swallowed hard, hoping the blood traveling to his groin helped by his ensuing thoughts wouldn't expose his inner thoughts to the world in the manifestation of an awkward bulge. He nodded briefly, and then followed Destane's command for him to eat and pick out a fresh piece of fruit for a snack.

As he bit into the juicy green apple, he passed her twice more and then stopped feeling the awkward bulge he feared appear. In a panic, he began to think about something. Anything which would detract his thoughts and barely succeeded. But Destane, sensing his awkwardness, looked down at Mozenrath's attempts to conceal himself behind barrels and tables and laughed quietly.

If there was ever a time that the younger man hated the pastiness of his complexion, it was now. He felt the heat rise from his neck and over his cheekbones to the roots of his hair. He was red-faced now in his embarrassment and slightly humiliated.

"You haven't known a lady, yet? Have you boy?" Destane spoke quietly, thoughtfully, and rhetorically to himself, rubbing his black beard languidly.

Little known to Mozenrath that months later he would bed the same young lady in a dark empty parlor at a royal feast. Destane decided to attend after refusing the same invitation annually since before Mozenrath was born. The reason was what he confessed to Mozenrath later "purely in your interest. In order to prevent a woman's control over you, you shall have a woman. If you have it, you won't be lured. You will follow in my steps; you won't fail."

Through letters, the blond young lady a few years Mozenrath's senior and he himself communicated to each other. Destane had contrived a way for the two to meet within a month and through subtle and painstaking courtesy and a myriad of lies supported by documents and items contrived through magic, had maneuvered Mozenrath as one of her "careless" suitors. A suitor which the families knew were not to be serious; but accompany the young lady to a very few events and attend their dinner parties and feasts.

-----

Her skin had been soft. That much he did remember of the entire encounter. Pale and soft and carrying that same faint vanilla fragrance. On the floor of that dark parlor, he "became a man". With some thrusts and grunts and her soft pants, he met bliss- his heart pounding, his head spinning, and his release sweet and inviting. He pulled her into a graceful kiss, more graceful on his part than hers. He carried that natural kind of grace.

He lay between her slender limbs, feeling lightheaded and tired as she lazily stroked his short wavy black hair. Their sweat mingled together along with their breaths as they lay on the thick and soft rug that cradled them both in the night.

Wordlessly, she smiled softly and stood, helping Mozenrath to his feet and steadying him. Although she was slender, she must've been at least twenty pounds heavier than her temporary partner. "I was the first girl, huh?" she laughed softly, showing her brilliant teeth.

"What?" he said, his smile faint as he panted, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Your first girl?"

"Oh…yeah."

"You'll remember me then. It's good I knew what to do."

She touched his hair tenderly and brought her lips to his cheek. "They await us, Mozenrath." And with a fluff of her hair and smoothing down her emerald satin gown she stalked outside the parlor door, leaving him to pant and gaze after her, a ridiculous and satisfied grin on his face.

Oddly enough, he never became attached to her. No doubt in due part to Destane's constant heckling and indoctrination instilled on the near futility of women in general, except sorceresses- he deemed them "tolerable."

For a few more times, he bedded the pretty young lady whom he found to bed not a few of her suitors. A common pretty nymph who wound her way through the crowds and throngs of men who desired her and some of whom she desired in return. She was captivating with an innocence you deemed her to have until you found out much later that she lacked. You noticed her physical appearance first and then her laughter next which soothed and was as rare as a gentle rain.

Then she ran off. Leaving a short letter to her guardian, she fled with her favorite suitor and was never heard of again.

Without a letter, without a word, without a touch- she left Mozenrath feeling a bit empty and longing for her simple caress, just a simple lustless affection which he had grown entirely dependent on. And while he never would admit or even entertain the idea of having loved her, he did grow used to her.

Even now, in one of the darkest rooms of his Citadel, in a dusty bureau in the dimmest corners of a small room, barely 3 yards by 4 yards, he kept her letters, sealed in an air-tight container that still emitted that intoxicating vanilla aroma which smarted his nose and sometimes caused his dark eyes to water with the power of the smell. He had longed for her, even when rolling in the sheets with other women. And like a spell, he felt that to some degree, he always would.

--end of flashback--

As usual, it was dim in the front room of the palace. Too dark and sinister. Not evil… not malevolent . But something dark. Sacrilege. She was not irreligious, as with her dark skin, she also stood apart in a land of Muslims when she happened to be the few Catholics she knew. Although she was not devout and was not fanatical, she did own a rosary and recited her Hail Marys when she remembered.

But this place seemed to dissolve religion. Though she would never admit it, it frightened her. Immensely. At times, she kept reminding herself that she shivered because of the wind, not the aura. Never the aura. She had magic too. With a wave of her hand, she could produce a gloomy environment just like this one. She couldn't be scared. But still, if she would only cease this violent shaking!

He had been alerted by her presence already; otherwise the clammy mamuks wouldn't be shuffling past her heedlessly and wordlessly, thoughtlessly without already having pounced on her and ripped her limb from limb.

The silver torches blazed with a dazzling sapphire flame on either side of the enormous empty area with the shining marble floor with the mirror-like reflection. For a touch of reassurance, she brought her chilly fingers to her breastbone. To the warm and dark ruby amulet underneath her thin cloak. It did little to reassure her. For a few more minutes she waited, impatiently albeit, tapping her silver-clad slipper hastily and casting her eyes about her for any signs of Lord Mozenrath, Ruler of the Black Sand.

Alas, a figure emerged from the doorway of a corner about 20 yards away, dressed entirely in what appeared to be charcoal and dove-hued material, and with a dark turban which covered short and black hair that curled about an ashen face. His gauntlet glowed with a dark purplish-almost black light as he approached her, and she noticed his wry smile.

"It's about time you showed." his smooth voice greeted her as he glanced pointedly at her breastbone. Her gem had begun to glow underneath her top and illuminated a small expanse of light about a foot in diameter. She restrained the retort that it as he who was late this time, not her. And besides, she did arrive punctually, save for a couple minutes late.

"I found nothing on that jewel. So I think we should just let them react and see what happens." she paused, blinking and watching his indifferent expression. He was extremely arduous to read, his moods or his thoughts. You never knew quite what he was thinking until he actually responded.

"Quite an observation considering I told you that you would find no research nearly two weeks ago. At any rate, I don't usually take accomplices or suggest alliances- But I need that power and you need mine. I would take your gem from you, but the items seem too identical in magical content to be any lesser or greater in power."

"So what are you saying?"

"You and I are in an alliance." He finished off-handedly, that hideous eel swirling about him.

"And you just think I'll agree?" her thick brows furrowed, a smile nonexistent.

"I'm not forcing you. You'd just be denying your lust for power."

"I lust for nothing!" she retorted sharply, unashamed of her outburst and clenching her fist at her sides, the gem in the middle of her breastbone illuminating her face in a scarlet glimmer. She breathed deeply and then continued in a calmer voice, "What type of alliance are you after?"

"A simple one. We need to see how the gems react in the nearby kingdoms together in real-life situations."

He spoke concisely and efficiently, never using more words than necessary.

"So I'm supposed to be with you as we go around other kingdoms…like a couple?" she spat irritably, rolling her shoulders.

"Not as a couple. As an _alliance_. Besides, the couple thing is far cliché. Don't flatter yourself, _Princess._" His tone remained indifferent, but the insulting overtone shone clear. He was using sarcasm, mocking her street-rat origin subtly and quickly escorted her to wrath.

"Fool!" she hissed, raising her clenched fist and flinging her dusky hand out toward the pale-faced offender.

A rush of sand emerged from her hand in the shape of a dagger which flew through the air like a speeding arrow and quickly transformed into the real metal weapon, gleaming and lethally sharp. It rushed toward Mozenrath who stood about two yards away and nonchalantly with a wave of his hand, a blue light encompassed his gauntlet and charged toward the oncoming weapon which instantaneously disappeared.

Surprise flashed on her features, and Mozenrath chuckled at her reaction.

"Don't think you're the only one who practices magic, _Princess_. And I will call you _Princess_ if I wish. I've been a sorcerer since before you knew what black magic was. My powers are far more cultivated than yours. It would be in your best interest not to anger me."

"Are you trying to say I have no control over my magic?" her eyes narrowed as she placed an arm on her hip.

"You have limited control. Like I told you, I do not favor alliances nor people. I've decided that we should travel to Ganastan first and then swing into a sort or arc," he motioned using his arm in a wide gesture, "then on to Paramoor and Vicar. We'll need to travel to all of them, but we won't go all at once. It'll be wiser that way."

"People might ask who we are. What do we tell them?" she questioned shortly.

"You are a relative of mine, whom I'm escorting about town."

"Are they going to believe that? We don't look anything the same." her look remained skeptical.

"You want to tell them we're married then?" his look masked his internal irritation and surprise.

"We won't want to create suspicion." she declared, biting her lip.

"You know about that." he muttered, smiling softly.

"It got me results, didn't it?" she shot back, holding up her hands.

"Relax," his nonchalant voice answered her. "I'm not insulting you."

"Well, good." she rolled her shoulders once more and smiled faintly.

"But I'm not complimenting either."

"So I'm your wife during all this?" she mouthed slowly, as if testing the words out on her lips like a foreign delicacy for the first time.

"Yes."

"What about the children in my charge?"

He could not mask the ensuing look of astonishment and displeasure on his face at her inquiry. "What children?"

"They aren't really mine. I just take care of them."

He crossed his navy-clad arms over his chest, "It'd be too much of a hassle to bring them."

With a wave of her hand, she spoke. "I'll take care of it. But between kingdoms I need time to myself for about a week before starting again."

"Deal." he began to retreat slowly, "We'll embark a week from today."

"Why are you making all the decisions like I'll say yes?" she almost pouted.

"With your track record, I think my plans will be more than a little careful. If only because we won't be embezzling." his continued to leave, back into the darkness and chuckled quietly to himself at her discomfort and rising petulance.

"Ooh!" with her dusky hands on her hips, she shook with indignation.

"Relax. I'll meet you here in a week, at sunrise, _Princess_." and with that departure, he receded into blackness.

Calming herself and returning to her usual casual demeanor, she smiled as she looked down at her glowing gem as the undead brushed past her in the foggy streets of the Land. A opportunity for power had arisen, and by this simple alliance she would find a way to snatch his power and incorporate it into hers. She would have the power. She was sure of it.


End file.
